


a lighter in his pocket / a matchbook in his socks

by ScreechTheMighty



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Divergent, Fire, Gen, General Unhealthy Behavior, PTSD, Panic, Rated for swearing, Self-Loathing, Suicide mention, The others are also there but they're not the POV characters or the focus so, also a bit of Molly&Caleb in the second part but that's not the focus either, and also the panic/anxiety, backstory reveal, but only because I fell behind again, caleb makes bad decisions, inspired by a song, molly is a persistent brat but also a good friend, so it's canon up to halfway through episode 18, trent ikathon is a bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 08:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14870691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: and a block full of charred skeletons / closeted, begging to get outThe ghosts of your past catch up to you eventually. Sometimes, they bring more than just the memories with them.(Inspired by "story 2" by clipping.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had the idea for this fic pretty much within hours of watching Caleb's backstory reveal. I was just too tired/uninspired to write it. Then last night, I had a surge of inspiration after seeing a gifset and wrote the whole first chapter in one go. Sorry for any typos; I was up pretty late working on it. Also had to guess at the spelling of Eadwulf's name, but HOPEFULLY that's the spelling Liam O'Brien was going for. (Also, Liam? Why you do this to us, Liam? Why??)

He thought that leaving Zadash would make things better. But every mile they put between themselves and that city only made him more anxious. It felt as though the hounds of his past were following, nipping at his heels. Like he was running away from that asylum again, into an uncertain future.

At least then he didn’t have company. Now, Caleb was surrounded by people, two of whom knew his secret and another two of whom were irritatingly persistent. He could only act like everything was normal for so long before Molly or Jester started asking questions. Fjord might even get in on the inquisition if he caught scent of something interesting. The thought of being interrogated as to why he was acting so strange was just another weight on his shoulders, along with the stones placed there by life in general and the recent encounters in Zadash.

Caleb had never wanted to be away from these people more in the time he’d known them. So, when he got his chance in a small town two days away, he took it. _I’m going to the bookstore_ was all he had to say to get five of them off his back. The sixth person, however…

“Nott, I’ll be all right. I just need to stretch my legs.” Caleb reached up to scratch under Frumpkin’s chin as the cat perched on his shoulders. He hoped his hands weren’t trembling. “I won’t be gone long.”

“Are you _sure?_ What if…” Nott at least had the decency to whisper, so quietly that Caleb had to lean over to hear her. “What if Trent…?”

“We’re two days away from the city and Trent didn’t know I was there to begin with. I told you, the necklace keeps me safe. I’ll be all right. I just need…” He sighed. “I need some time to myself. Being cooped up in that cart has gotten to be a bit, you know what I mean? I’ll be back before nightfall. I promise.”

Nott didn’t look pleased. But, gods bless her, she had been so patient with him lately. If he was being honest, Caleb was exploiting that patience now. He ought to feel ashamed of that, he thought, but he was desperate. Desperate people did terrible things. He knew that better than most.

“…all right,” Nott said finally. “What should I do if the others ask questions?”

“Tell them that I’m probably reading something and lost track of time. It will be mostly true.” He had no intention of running or doing anything untoward (well, more untoward than usual). He just wanted to find a quiet corner and not think about his life for a little while. “If anything happens, just…” He gestured vaguely as if casting a spell. “Do that trick of yours and I’ll be there in a jiffy.” Caleb tousled her hair. “Try not to get into any trouble while I’m gone, okay?”

“I’ll _try_ ,” she said, a bit sullen, a bit worried. “Be safe.”

“I will, I will. Don’t worry.”

Caleb made sure she wasn’t following him, taking the long way to the bookstore and looking over his shoulder every chance he got. He didn’t go inside until he was sure he was alone. The only person inside was the shop owner, but they were so intent on repairing the binding of a battered tome that they didn’t pay him much mind. Caleb didn’t bother detecting magic, or even being selective with the books he chose. He took three at random and sat down in a corner, wedged between two shelves. He let Frumpkin settle down in his lap and he started reading.

He barely remembered what he read, but he didn’t have to think, and he could feel and look however he wanted without being questioned. It was enough to make him feel less wound up. Less afraid.

Caleb read through an entire book and started on a second. He was about halfway through that one when footsteps nearby startled him. There was someone walking by. He thought for sure they’d have more questions for the dirty, exhausted looking ginger reading in a space that was _very_ much not a public library, but they ignored him.

That was one crisis averted, replaced by another—namely, the fact that the sun coming in through the windows had started to dim.

_I’ll be back before dark._ As much as he wanted to stay there, safe in that corner, he _had_ promised Nott. And if the weight of that promise wasn’t enough, he knew that Nott would come looking for him if he was late. He didn’t want to deal with that. It was better to go back now on his own terms than to be dragged back.

So he stood, he put the books back (though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about pocketing one), and he left. The shop owner still didn’t notice him.

There was enough sunlight that he could justify taking the long way back. Caleb kept petting Frumpkin as he walked, to the point that the familiar was starting to get agitated. “I know, I know, I’m sorry…” Frumpkin grumbled, butting his head against Caleb’s chin in reprimand. “You’re very patient and I don’t deserve you.” That was true, that much was for sure. Caleb was so focused on the cat that he walked right into someone. “Ach, _entschuldig-_ “

He saw a flash of blond hair and familiar grey eyes.

A flood of memories rushed over him—cold skin, gurgling blood, the burning heat of a house on fire, the smell of ashes. He remembered beatings and killings and a hand on his shoulder, voice whispering in his ear, _for the good of the Empire…_

The person was gone by the time he came back to himself. Caleb took two steps in the direction they’d gone before he realized something important.

That specter might have gone, taking the memories with them, but the heat hadn’t. The taste of ashes hadn’t.

Caleb knew what he would find—he _knew_. He didn’t want to believe it, he tried to convince himself otherwise even as he turned and started running, but he knew. He _knew_. Panic filled his lungs and throat just like the smoke that grew thicker the more he ran and when he turned the corner to reach the inn…

_No. No, no, no, no._

The inn was already half-engulfed in flames. He could hear people shouting orders, the hiss of water hitting fire, and _screams_. It was the screams that caught his attention. The sound of people in pain. He could smell cooking flesh from where he stood, a smell far too familiar, and as much as his mind tried to retreat from the chaos he forced himself to listen, because he had to know if any of those screams of pain were familiar…he had heard all of them in pain by now, he would know if they were still inside, had they barricaded the doors like he had that night, were they still inside, was Nott, _oh, gods, had they gotten her out?_

The screams turned into a distant echo. All he could see was reds, oranges, yellows.

And then there was pain, but not from the fire. Claws dug into his face and the sound of Frumpkin hissing and yowling drowned out the screaming all around him. Caleb dropped the cat in surprise, allowing him to dart away towards…

“ _Caleb!_ ”

Mollymauk.

“ _Caleb, get **back** \- !_” It was only then that the heat became obvious. He hadn’t realized he’d been walking towards the inn until then. “What the _fuck_ are you doing?!”

“Nott…where’s Nott?” Molly didn’t look burned, not that Caleb could tell, but that didn’t mean anything. He could’ve gone out for a walk, come back to find the inn burning same as he had. “ _Where’s Nott, did she get out?!_ ”

“She’s _fine._ She’s been trying to call you!” Molly dragged him back; part of Caleb resisted, because what if Molly was wrong, what if she was inside, _how did he know_ \- “You never replied to any of her messages!”

“I didn’t…” He hadn’t heard her. Had he really been so lost in his own head that he hadn’t heard? “Where…”

“She’s right over here, come on…” Molly only stopped long enough to pick up Frumpkin and pass him off to Caleb. “The others are trying to help with the fire, but we thought it’d be best if she waited with the cart. I went to find you, since you fell off the bloody map…gave us _all_ a scare, especially her.” Molly’s tone was reprimanding, but not too harsh. He sounded worried. “You with me?”

Caleb didn’t know. He was certainly in the moment, because he could hear everything, smell everything, still see the flames out of the corner of his eyes, but that didn’t mean he was with _Molly._ The fire was all he saw. It was his entire world in that moment.

“ _Caleb_.”

“I’m…” Caleb hugged Frumpkin tightly, and this time the cat did not complain. “Please, I need…”

_I need to see Nott, I need to see the others, I need to know they’re not dead, I need to know I didn’t kill them too, please, please, please._

“It’s all right. It’s all right, it’s not far.” Molly spoke so gently, so soothingly, Caleb wanted to cry at the sound of it. He sounded like Mother—and what a strange thing to think, that this ostentatious purple-skinned tiefling could remind him of _Mother_. “We’re almost there.”

He saw Nott before he saw the cart. She must’ve seen them coming and ran out to meet them. She practically _jumped_ up to cling to caleb, talking a mile a minute about how worried she was, she’d tried calling, why hadn’t he answered, where had he _been?_ And then there was a gap in his memory, because next thing he knew, he was crouched on the ground, clutching her and the cat, shaking and sobbing, apologizing. Begging for her forgiveness. The words tumbled out in Zemnian, sounding rough and harsh from his tears. There was something draped over his shoulders—Molly’s coat. When had Molly left his coat?

“Shh, shh, it’s all right, it’s all right…” Nott patted his back as best she could with him crushing her like that. “You’re all right, we’re both okay.”

“Where’s Molly?”

“He went to help the others. He just left. It’s okay. We were in the front part of the inn, the back part is what caught fire. Everyone got out fine. We got our stuff and everything. I saved all your paper.”

That just set him off crying again. Because she’d thought to grab his paper when her own life was in danger. Because what did paper really _matter?_ What did any of their objects matter when he could have lost _her?_ Or any of the others? “They’re all right?” he asked, wanting to be sure.

“They’re all right. We’re all fine, Caleb.”

He wanted to believe her. But he couldn’t. He wanted to go back and check, but he knew if he turned around, faced that fire again, he’d just lose himself. So he let Nott guide him into the cart. He held his cat, wrapped Molly’s coat around himself, he closed off his ears and shut his eyes and he waited.

Eventually, the smells and sounds faded. He heard their voices not long after.

“…don’t think he’d be able to throw up enough water to put out an entire building fire.”

“But if he _could_ , though, that would be _really cool._ ”

“Actually, that sounds unpleasant.”

“I think it sounds hilarious. Don’t you think it sounds hilarious, Yasha?”

Caleb looked out of the cart. They were there, all five of them, dirty from ash and looking tired, but alive. Jester’s face lit up when she saw him. “ _Oh, Caleb!_ ” she squealed, running towards him. “We were worried about you! I was worried that you might’ve come back and gotten trapped inside or maybe something bad happened but…” She jumped into the cart and hugged him tightly. “…Molly _said_ he’d found you…why didn’t you reply to Nott?”

“I didn’t…I was…” She was crushing him, but strangely enough, he didn’t mind. “…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“’s fine, dude,” Beau interrupted. Her tone, her face, everything about her was casual as ever. But he could see understanding in her eyes, and worry. “You okay?”

_No, I am not okay, Beauregard. I think it’s obvious that I am **very much not okay.**_

“I’m fine,” he said aloud, his voice strained by the pressure Jester was putting on his chest. He still didn’t mind it. It felt like the only thing keeping him together. “I was…at the store, I wasn’t near the inn. I’m glad…” Tears filled his eyes again, try as he might to keep them at bay. “I’m glad…you’re all okay.”

Beau grimaced slightly, getting that _look_ she had when she was trying to figure out how to respond to niceness. Jester had no such problems. “ _Aww,_ we’re glad you’re all right, too!” She let go, allowing his lungs to fill properly but also removing the sense of security he’d felt. “Don’t worry, no one _died._ A few people were hurt, but I’m getting _much_ better at healing magic, since I’m the cleric and everything, so I think they’ll be fine. Do you think they’ll be fine?”

“They’ll live,” Yasha said bluntly. Her eyes darted to Molly’s coat, then to Caleb’s likely pale face. “I don’t think any of the rooms survived.”

“We can sleep in the cart again, it’s fine. We should consider ourselves lucky we got out alive,” Fjord pointed out. “It could’ve been worse.”

Fjord was right. It could have been a lot worse.

The thought lingered in his mind, drifting around with the memory of that blond-haired-grey-eyed figure and the smell of smoke. Around him, everyone focused on making camp, discussing where they could get dinner, what the sleeping arrangements would be. No one bothered him. Molly made no move to take his coat back. Nott occasionally looked at him with worry in her eyes, and one time Beau tried to speak to him. Whatever she had been about to ask was cut off when Fjord called her over to help with something.

Caleb was glad for that, because he had a feeling he knew what she’d been about to ask.

_This wouldn’t have anything to do with Trent Ikithon, would it?_

His chest went tight at the thought of the name. It did. It did and he knew it. He knew it because he knew that face, that figure, he hadn’t seen them in decades but he knew both their faces like he knew his own and they wouldn’t do this unless Trent had ordered it. The thought nearly drove him into a panic again; he buried his face in Frumpkin’s coat and breathed slowly, in and out, in and out, until he was sure he wasn’t going to start sobbing again. They were alive, he told himself. They were all alive.

The thought wasn’t as reassuring as it should have been, because he didn’t know how much longer it would be true.

Caleb didn’t eat much that night. He took a few bites of whatever the others had been able to scrounge up from around town before passing off what was left to Nott. His stomach was too tightly knotted to let him eat. Molly still didn’t take his coat back, even as the night wore on and everyone started settling down to sleep. “At least no one’s tried to arrest us this time,” Molly grumbled from somewhere outside the cart. “That _would_ be what we get for trying to help, wouldn’t it?”

“What do you think started the fire?” Jester asked. The question set Caleb’s heart racing; he tried to hide the reaction by pulling the collar of Molly’s coat up over his face. “Do you think someone left a candle burning? People do that sometimes, and it’s _really_ not safe.”

“Maybe they were involved in some shady shit and it was like…a mob hit or something,” Beau suggested. “Or yeah, maybe it was just a candle. Doesn’t matter, not our problem.”

He wondered if she really believed that, or if she was just saying it to keep his secret.

He wondered how much longer she’d _want_ to keep his secret.

Caleb closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep; it must have worked, or maybe they pitied him too much for his obvious distress to call him out, because he was left alone as the others nodded off. Eventually, even Nott was asleep, curled up against his back with one hand clutching Molly’s coat. Like she was worried he was going to wander off.

_Maybe I should wander off._

Caleb opened his eyes once he was sure the others were all asleep. The night was so dark that he couldn’t see the inn, or what was left of it. A few times he heard footsteps—whoever it was, be they crownsguard making the rounds or a random person who couldn’t sleep, they didn’t bother the group. Caleb moved carefully to extract himself from the coat without waking Nott. He might not have been as stealthy as she was, but he managed to get out, then away from the cart without waking her. He moved to the edge of their camp and stared out at the edge of town, towards the woods he knew were there, even though he couldn’t see them.

That was when he saw the light among the trees.

He thought, for a moment, that it was another will-o-wisp, but it flickered too regularly to be anything like that. It took a few repetitions, but he recognized the pattern. It was an alert—a call for a meeting. There were only three people in the world who could have given that signal. He’d seen one of them earlier today. Caleb was sure of that now.

He felt sick at the sight of it, sick at the thought of what it might mean. But he went on anyways, pausing only to make _sure_ that the others were out cold before darting off towards the woods.

He should have run—run away from that light, away from the others, just run and run in the hopes that it would take him far away from all of this. But as much as his urge to survive screamed at him to leave, some desperate, animal part of him thought maybe they could be reasoned with. Maybe if they knew he was leaving, they wouldn’t bother him anymore. Maybe he could spare the others at _least,_ even if he burned. Maybe.

At that thought, Caleb stopped and set Frumpkin down. “Go back to the others,” he whispered. The cat mewed insistently and circled around his ankles. “I mean it, go on. You shouldn’t be around for this.” Frumpkin sat down, blinked at him. Caleb nudged him with his boot, gently. “ _Please_.”

Frumpkin had to be nudged a few more times before he went. A few times, Caleb saw the cat’s eyes flash in the night as he looked back over his shoulder. It was a relief to see him go, but terrifying at the same time. Now he was really alone, _truly_ alone. Just him and the ghosts of his past.

_Just get it over with, Caleb._

He turned and kept walking.

There were only two figures in the forest clearing, one blond haired, one dark haired. A boy and a girl—a woman and a man, rather. None of them had been boys or girls for a long, long time now. They looked the same in many ways, but different. It had been a long time, after all. Eleven years…going on twelve, maybe. He wondered what he must have looked like to them. Dirty, probably. Thin and pale.

Terrified.

“Hello, Caleb,” said Astrid.

Hearing her say his name broke him again.

“Please.”

“Caleb.”

“ _Please,_ we’re leaving…I promise, I’m _leaving,_ I _left,_ I’m not going to be any trouble…” His hands shook, his voice shook, he felt like he was shaking apart into ash and dust, as much as he tried to keep his panic in check, he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_. “…I won’t say anything, I won’t do anything…please, _please._ ” He couldn’t stand anymore. He knelt in the dirt there in front of his former friends, small and vulnerable, _begging._ “You didn’t have to do that, I was _leaving._ ”

“We know.” Eadwulf sounded almost sympathetic as he spoke. “We know, Caleb.”

“Then _why?!_ If you wanted me dead, then why not just _kill me?!_ ” The words tore out of his voice like the roar of fire—they burned his lips as he left. “You didn’t have to involve them, they don’t know, they haven’t _done anything…_ they haven’t done anything, please, if you want to kill me, just _kill me._ Don’t…don’t hurt them, please…”

And that was a mistake, because now they knew, now they _knew_ these people meant something to him. Now they were at even greater risk. He may have just signed their death warrants.

“ _Please._ ”

He couldn’t look at them. He couldn’t see their faces. He would just remember that night if he did. It was bad enough that he could taste the ashes, feel the heat of the fire, all of that was bad enough, but if he looked them in the eyes, he wouldn’t remember _all_ of it…

Someone touched his shoulder. Caleb flinched and closed his eyes. Waited for a killing blow, but one never came. “We could have killed them, but we didn’t,” said Eadwulf calmly. “And we want you to remember that, Caleb. Astrid and I knew where you were too, but we didn’t kill _you_. Remember that as well.”

“We don’t want to see you again after tonight,” Astrid said. There was sorrow in her voice; he couldn’t tell if it was genuine or for his benefit. “Because if we do, it will not end so well for you. Do you understand, Caleb?”

He understood.

It had been a message all along. A sick act of mercy and a threat all at once. He was alive, they were all alive, but now he had to live with the knowledge that the man who hurt him and turned him into a monster knew he was alive. Knew he had weaknesses.

They would burn the rest of the Mighty Nein alive and leave him to choke on the ashes if he returned. That was their message. And this message he heard loud and clear.

“I understand,” he whispered.

The was silence. He could feel Astrid and Eadwulf’s eyes on him, but they did not say anything. Eventually, there were footsteps; he glanced up in time to see them walking away, each of them sparing him a glance as they did. Astrid’s hair was like spun gold in the moonlight; Eadwulf’s dark eyes and dark hair blended in perfectly in contrast. Exactly as he remembered them, but different. Hollow. Empty, the both of them.

Just vessels of the Empire.

Soon they were gone, and Caleb was alone again.

He fell apart, breaking down into gasps and sobs. But it didn’t last long. As quickly as he went under, he dragged himself up again, fueled by adrenaline and panic. He had to leave. He was a threat to the others now; if he put enough distance between himself and the Empire, between himself and the others, perhaps they would be safe, and perhaps he would stay alive long enough to find a way to _end_ this.

He got up and started running.

He slowed before he reached camp, not wanting to wake the others. He started to gather up his things. He was faintly aware of Frumpkin running up to him, meowing softly; Caleb hushed him once and kept packing. He didn’t have much, but a lot of his things had been scattered around the floor, dropped there in their haste to get everything safe in the cart. He was gathering up the last handful of papers when…

“Going somewhere?”

Fjord. Fjord was awake. Fjord was _fucking awake._ And he wasn’t the only one, either; Yasha was standing behind the half-orc, looking semi-awake and confused. He could hear Jester whining a complaint, asking why Fjord was talking so loudly. Beside him in the cart, Nott started stirring.

He had an audience. He couldn’t just walk away now. Shit. _Shit._

“…I have…” Caleb cleared his throat. He looked away from Fjord and out the paper in his bag. It crumpled as he did, but he didn’t care. Paper could be smoothed out. That could be fixed. “I have to go.”

That woke Nott up almost immediately. “ _Go?_ What do you mean _go?_ ” she squeaked.

“I have to go,” Caleb repeated. Fjord still didn’t move, even when Caleb walked to the cart. “Fjord, please.”

“What the _fuck?_ ” Beau grumbled. “Guys, it’s _late,_ go back to _sleep…_ ”

“Caleb, why do you have to go?” Fjord asked.

“I just have to go. Fjord, _please._ ” The panic was starting to build in Caleb’s chest again; he was able to push past Fjord, but not Yasha. “I have to leave.”

“Caleb, c’mon, let’s talk about this for a second…”

He tried to touch Caleb’s shoulder. That started the fire in Caleb’s chest again, turning the panic into a raging inferno. He didn’t remember lashing out, but he must have, because next thing he knew, his fists hurt, people were shouting, and Yasha’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him in place. His chest echoed with his desperate screams. He struggled like he hadn’t since the asylum, trying to break free of Yasha’s grip, but it was useless. She wasn’t going to let him go, _none of them were going to let him go._ They didn’t understand, they didn’t know how dangerous he was, they _needed to understand…_

“ ** _I killed them!_** ” he screamed. “ ** _I killed them! I killed my parents!_** ”

The confession silenced the entire group. Caleb’s own screams echoed in his ears, but other than that, there was just a shocked silence. He took in their faces—their confusion, or in Beau and Nott’s case, their quiet dread. “Caleb, what are you talking about?” Fjord asked.

Caleb hadn’t wanted them to find out like this—he hadn’t wanted them to find out at all. But if this was the only way for them to let him go, then he would immolate himself in their eyes. Reveal himself for what he was. “I killed my parents,” he said, “because they were enemies of the Empire. I killed them because I wanted to, and I’m the reason that inn burned down. I’m a _monster_ , and you don’t _want me here._ ” _Believe it, please, believe it._ “I’m a monster.”

“Caleb, no,” Nott said, her voice trembling. “That’s not…”

“ ** _Shut up!_** _Shut up,_ shut up, it doesn’t matter, let me…” Yasha finally released him; Caleb stumbled from the sudden lack of support, but kept his feet and started walking. “I’m _leaving._ ”

“Nott, is he telling the truth?” Fjord asked.

“Yes, yes, but…no, Caleb, you’re not a monster…Caleb! _Caleb!_ ” He could hear her footsteps as she ran after him; he ignored them, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Jester looked at him with confusion and fear in her eyes, and Molly just… _stared_. _What must they think of me?_ _What do they see now?_

He hoped it was something terrible. He hoped it was the worst monster they could think of, that he was a killer in their eyes, that he was whatever he had to be to keep them from coming after him. No one tried to stop him as he walked away, so it must have worked. He would feel terrible about that later, but right now, he just wanted to focus on getting away.

There was only one problem: Nott was still following him. She followed him right into the nearby woods, panting as she struggled to catch up. “Caleb,” she said. “Caleb, please come back. Whatever happened, we can fix it, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“You need to go back, Nott. You’re safer with the rest of them.”

“Bull _shit!_ ” Her footsteps grew faster as she caught up to him, grabbing his coattails in a vain attempt at stopping him. “You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to ask me if I’d leave with you and then walk away without me!”

She was right. Gods, she was right, and he was a monster for more reasons than murdering his parents. He was a monster for leaving her behind. But the alternative was…

“You’re safer without me,” he said. He reached into his pocket, pushing his way past the guilt growing in his chest. “I’m sorry, Nott.”

He pulled out a pinch of dust and sprinkled it over her head. That dust, a quick gesture, and a few words was all it took. Nott dropped into a deep sleep, falling into a tiny bundle at his feet.

Seeing her like that came close to breaking him again. But he gathered up his strength, scooped her up, and moved her to a safe place under a tree. “Wait until I’ve gone on ahead,” he whispered to Frumpkin as he made sure Nott was comfortable, “and then bring Molly here. Make sure he gets Nott, then come find me.” Frumpkin tilted his head. He looked almost judgmental. “Please don’t look at me like that. Just…please do this?”

Frumpkin mewed quietly and settled down next to Nott. “Thank you.” Caleb knew he should keep walking, but he stopped. Gently pushed Nott’s hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

He was a monster, no matter what she thought. He knew that because he was leaving her for selfish reasons. Because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her again. Because he wouldn’t be the cause of her death—or anyone else’s. He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Caleb stood up and walked away.

He could still smell the ashes as he went.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me earlier: Ehh with everything going on updates on this are probably going to be slow, I'm going to be busy soon and...
> 
> Me: *finishes the second chapter in a day and comes up with ideas for a third part*
> 
> Me: Why can't I be this inspired with my personal projects ever.

When the silence finally broke, it broke spectacularly.

“What the _fuck_ just happened?” Yasha said.

Jester jumped to her feet and ran to Fjord’s side. “Did he hit you very hard?” she asked, but kept talking before Fjord could answer: “What did he mean, he killed his parents? Did he _really?_ Why would he say that?”

“I don’t know…Jester, don’t worry, he didn’t hurt me none…”

“Nott said that he was telling the truth and if he was telling the truth…”

“Jester, _I don’t know_.”

Beau muttered something—it sounded like _this is such bullshit_ , but Molly couldn’t hear her. Really, he couldn’t hear any of them. The words were _registering_ , but there was another sound echoing in his ears at the moment: Caleb’s screams. The sight of him, suddenly punching Fjord, having to be restrained, howling like a wild animal as Yasha held him, was stuck in his mind. There had been panic there, real panic, terror, and… _guilt,_ yes, guilt. Molly hadn’t known Caleb too long, but he liked to think he was good at reading people. From where he was sitting, Caleb had been telling the truth.

Didn’t Nott say she met Caleb in prison?

And where _was_ Nott, anyway?

Molly started gathering up his swords. The conversation started filtering into his ears again, just in time for him to hear the really juicy bits: “…think he’ll walk it off, and then Nott will bring him back. That’s what I think,” Beau was saying, trying to sound casual and _failing_ so miserably. She probably thought she sounded casual, but it was a deflective kind of casual, the sort you used when you were trying to change the subject. “He’ll be fine.”

“Beau, do you _know_ something?” Fjord asked. Sharp as his sword, that one.

“ _No_ , just…call it a hunch?”

Yasha sighed. “Beauregard,” she said quietly, “do you know something about all of this?”

Oh, clever girl. There was no way Beau was going to be able to back out of that one. Molly stood and watched Beau’s face carefully. The monk was leaning against the cart, arms crossed, body language nonchalant, but her _face._ That was the grimace of someone about to crack. “…I know a lot of shit,” she said finally, “but I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

Well then.

“As much as I’d _love_ to pursue that,” Molly said aloud as he walked to the cart, “I think someone should go make sure they’re both okay. Beau, you coming?” He wasn’t asking because he thought he could get more information out of her. She hated him too much for him to even try. He was asking her because, if she _did_ know something, she might have a better chance of calming Caleb down than the others. “We won’t be long.”

Beau sighed and pushed herself off the cart. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

Caleb had left the coat behind. Molly wasn’t sure why the sight made his heart ache so, but he pushed that aside, put on his coat, and started walking.

There were so many things Molly wanted to ask, but he kept his questions to himself and one hand on his swords. They were almost to the woods Caleb had disappeared into when he heard a quiet _mrow_. “Frumpkin?” The cat emerged from the underbrush and walked to Molly, still meowing insistently. “What, did your human finally see sense? Hmm?”

The cat walked away, then walked back, meowing. “That’s kind of freaky,” Beau said.

“I don’t think so.” Molly followed the cat, Beau at his heels. “He’s a very intelligent…cat…”

His heart sank, just for a moment, at the sight of the body under the tree. But when he ran to Nott’s side, the goblin was just asleep. She snored quietly, a glob of drool running from the corner of her mouth and onto her clothes. Molly thought back to the troll and sighed. “Caleb Widogast, you great bloody idiot,” he muttered.

“Yeah, he really is a dumbass, isn’t he?” Beau leaned over and picked up Nott. “So, what do we do?”

That was a good question. Molly felt something press against his ankles and vanish; when he looked down, Frumpkin was walking into the trees. The cat stopped, sat down, and stared back at them. His tail twitched and his eyes flashed in the weak moonlight.

“…I know you said you’re not at liberty to discuss anything,” Molly said, “and I respect that, I do. But let me ask you one thing: is there more to the story than what he said?”

Beau got that closed-off look again, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Molly. Trying to guess what he was playing at, no doubt. “Yeah,” she said finally, “he left a few parts out.”

That was all Molly needed to hear.

“All right. Tell the others…” Frumpkin meowed insistently. “I’m coming, I’m coming…tell the others to head to the next town over and wait for us there. I’ll come back with Caleb. Hopefully it won’t take too long, but if things get hairy, move on to the next town and we’ll go looking for you there. Leave a note for us or something.”

“And what if you can’t convince him to come back?”

“Don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Mostly because he had no intention of coming back without Caleb Widogast. He could knock the human out if he had to. “Hopefully, we won’t be long.”

“You’d better not be. Hey…” Molly had turned to leave, but turned around in time for Beau to toss him something. It was her bag and her survival gear. She must’ve grabbed it on her way out of camp. “I want my shit back,” she warned. “Okay?”

Molly grinned. “Of course. Thank you.” Beau might have been a shithead, but she could be all right sometimes. “See you later.”

Frumpkin glared up at him irately as he approached before darting off into the bushes. Molly had to jog to keep up. Fortunately for him (and unfortunately for Caleb), he was _very_ good at tracking. Even if he couldn’t remember how. It helped that Caleb wasn’t especially stealthy, and that Frumpkin sometimes stopped to wait for him.

_Good cat._

They were a good distance away from the camp before Frumpkin ran to a bundle of clothes half-hidden in some bushes. Molly approached carefully, slowly; Caleb didn’t wake up. The only movement he made was to wrap one arm around Frumpkin when the cat curled up next to him.

Caleb was probably one of the saddest individuals Molly had ever met. He’d noticed it from the first time he’d laid eyes on the human. He wore grief and weariness in his eyes, in the slump of his shoulders, in that stupid dirty coat of his. There were some quirks that were divorced from that sadness, little things that provided glimpses of who Caleb Widogast was without that pain. But the pain was a ground-in stain—a stain that was only becoming more evident the longer Molly knew him.

Now it seemed like that darkness was all there was.

Molly sat down nearby, leaned against a tree, and waited for the sun to rise. He dozed off a few times, but never fell asleep so fully that he missed the sound of Caleb waking up. Branches rustled, Frumpkin mewed and purred, and Caleb muttered something in Zemnian. Then…

“Molly?”

Molly opened his eyes and grinned. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said cheerfully.

Caleb stared at him, unblinking. Then, he got up and walked away.

Molly got up and followed.

It went on like that for three days and two nights.

Caleb didn’t said a word, and Molly didn’t tried to speak to him. He thought about it several times, but he could never think of a good conversation starter. Caleb was so closed-off; he wouldn’t even _look_ at Molly. Like he thought if he just ignored him, Molly would finally leave.

_That’s not happening, Widogast._

In fact, as the days went on, Molly saw more and more reasons not to leave. Caleb looked terrible—exhausted, afraid, a lot like how Molly imagined he looked after he dragged himself out of that grave. Caleb didn’t just avoid speaking to Molly; he avoided speaking at _all_. No whispered comments to the cat, no muttered incantations as he practiced magic, no talking to himself as he read. Actually, there was no reading at _all_ , which was probably the most worrying part. Caleb always had a nose in one of his books, or any new books he’d managed to pick up. But now he walked, or he sat silently in whatever makeshift camp he’d assembled for himself, staring at nothing, cat on his lap.

Molly sat nearby, but never too close. He kept an eye out for danger, though the worst thing they encountered was an overly-curious fox. Frumpkin had hissed at it until it retreated, looking more indignant than afraid. A few times, Molly tried to lure Frumpkin over to him, but the cat was resolute in staying with Caleb.

 _Good, loyal, clever Frumpkin_.

Molly caught a rabbit on the third day. Cooking it caught Caleb’s attention. Molly understood why; the wizard had barely eaten the whole three days they’d been walking. He’d drink from his water skin, sometimes shove a handful of berries into his mouth or other wild fruit, sometimes take from the limited rations in his bag. But it wasn’t enough for a real meal. And anyways, who could resist some nice rabbit? “You’re welcome to some if you’d like,” Molly called. He made no move to actually bring the food closer. This would be his first test; maybe all that walking had worn Caleb down enough that he’d let Molly in. “There’s enough for both of us.”

Caleb didn’t make a move to come closer, not for a while. Frumpkin actually had to get up and come over to try and steal some scraps from off Molly’s lap before he moved. “Ask _nicely_ ,” Molly scolded, passing the cat a few pieces. “You can have all you want, but you can’t just take it.” When he glanced up, there Caleb was, already digging into a leg. “No offense, Caleb, but you look like shit.”

Caleb glared at him and kept eating.

Molly waited patiently, watching, honestly just glad that Caleb _had_ decided to eat. He wondered for a moment if Caleb had been struck by whatever strange affliction had lead Molly to go quiet all those years ago. Maybe he wasn’t talking because he couldn’t. He could still listen, though. That much Molly was sure of. “You’re not going to get rid of me,” Molly said, “so don’t think you can. I told the others I’d bring you back, and I have every intention of keeping that promise. So you’d better get used to me.”

Caleb huffed incredulously. “What?” Molly said. “You think I can’t be that persistent? It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“…they don’t want me back,” Caleb said finally. His voice was so quiet, it was almost drowned out by the sound of the campfire. It was a shock to hear him speak after three straight days of silence. “I’m a horrible person and they don’t want me there.”

Molly sighed. “Caleb, you might want that to be true, but it’s not. Nott wants you back. Beau…Beau knows a lot more than I do, and whatever it is she knows, it’s enough that she came looking for you at first. _I_ want you back.” Caleb flinched at the words. _An opening. Good._  “I want you back,” Molly repeated, “and I’m not leaving until that happens.”

Caleb looked away. Even when he looked back at Molly, he didn’t make any eye contact. It was enough for Molly to see tears starting to form in his eyes. “I’m…a monster,” he said, slowly, carefully, as if speaking to a very stubborn child. “I’m a _monster_ , Mollymauk, and I’m not safe to be around.”

“So? I’m probably not safe to be around, either. Or did you forget that we ran into a former friend of mine in a bloody crime den? She took vials of our blood, Caleb. That’s someone I used to be friends with. A blood thief. Fuck, I was the _leader_ of the blood thieves, if she was telling the truth. And do you remember what you said when you found out? That’s a rhetorical question. I know you do. You remember everything.”

Caleb drew his knees up to his chest and didn’t respond. That didn’t deter Molly in the slightest. “You said you believe in second starts. You said that was enough for you. Why are you willing to let me have that, but not yourself?”

“Because I don’t deserve it!” Caleb snapped. Molly hadn’t expected a reply that quickly. “I wasn’t lying back there. I killed them.”

“I heard you. I believe that you did it, but I don’t believe you’re a monster. Do you know why?” Molly leaned a bit closer. “Because a real monster wouldn’t be eaten up inside the way you are right now. Whatever you did is killing you. That matters a lot more to me.” He leaned back again. “Like I said back then. I don’t give a shit about who anyone was before. I care about who you are now. If I can let myself leave a life behind in the dirt, the least I can do is let you do the same.”

Caleb buried his face in his knees at those words. His shoulders were shaking. That was Molly’s cue to shut up and wait. As far as he could tell, Caleb was at a tipping point; he would either open up or he would shut down, and they’d have to start over tomorrow. Trying to push him towards the former would just make the latter more likely. So, he did nothing. He waited.

When Caleb lifted his head back up, there were tears streaming down his face, and his voice was thick with emotion. “Why the fuck do you care so much?”

“I like you.”

“ _Why?”_

“I don’t know. I just do. You’re weird. I like weird. You’re handy with the magic, so you’re useful. Cats are good judges of character and Frumpkin definitely likes you.” The cat purred at the sound of his name and butted his head against Caleb’s arm. “And I’ll tell you one more thing…any human who’s kind to a goblin has something going for them.”

Caleb didn’t reply. Molly was worried for a moment that he might have shut down that time, but Caleb did speak again: “Is…is she very mad at me?”

“No idea. She was asleep when I left her. I think she’ll forgive you, but I wouldn’t plan on leaving her again. She cares about you, you know.”

Caleb nodded. “I don’t deserve that,” he muttered. “Or your kindness.”

“Maybe. I probably didn’t deserve the second chance I got. We all get things we don’t deserve. I find it’s better to accept what we’re given.” Molly took a risk and moved a bit closer—not much, mind, but it was a visible enough movement to be an invitation. _You don’t have to sit on that side of the fire all by yourself_ sort of thing. “You have us both, and the others. You might not think you deserve us, but you’ve got us. No sense in throwing that away.” After a pause, he added, “Do _you_ still want us?”

“…yes,” Caleb whispered. “Yes.”

“Then come back.”

Part of Molly expected Caleb to get up and walk away again.

He did get up, but it wasn’t to walk away. It was to sit down, right next to Molly, close enough that they were almost touching. He curled up again, knees to his chest, arms around his legs, hands shaking as they clutched his sleeves. He wouldn’t look at Molly; he stared into the fire again. “I know you said…that you don’t care about who I was,” Caleb said. “But I want to tell you. But the others need to know, too, and this is not a story I want to tell twice. So…I will tell all of you. When we get back. But I have one condition.”

“I thought you might.”

“If the others want me to leave, you will not try to convince them. You’ll let me go.”

“Will you take Nott with you this time?”

“…if she still wants to come with me,” Caleb relented. “Yes.”

 _Would you take me with you?_ Molly thought about asking. He bit his tongue and held the question in check, because that might be a bridge too far. No sense in pushing his luck on hypotheticals, not when Caleb was finally speaking to him. “All right, that’s fair.” Molly almost reached over to pat Caleb on the shoulder, but stopped himself. Again: no sense in pushing his luck. “I told them to go on to the next town over. I think I remember the way back, so it shouldn’t take…”

Caleb leaned against Molly and closed his eyes.

That Molly hadn’t expected.

He carefully, slowly, wrapped an arm around Caleb’s shoulders. “This all right?” he asked.

“Hmm.” Caleb was still trembling, but it seemed to subside at the touch. “Molly?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to die.”

That was such a strange comment to make—though perhaps not that strange, once he remembered Caleb talking about how he wasn’t safe to be around. Perhaps whatever backstory he had would be an exception to the _I don’t give a shit where you came from_ rule. But _only_ if it might bite Molly and the rest of them in the ass later. “I’ll try my best to avoid that,” Molly promised. “Though seeing how I clawed my way out of a grave, I might… _actually_ be immortal? I don’t plan on testing it.”

Caleb chuckled. “Good,” he muttered. “Don’t.”

He stayed like that for the rest of the night.

The next morning, they got up together and walked back the way they came.

Caleb was still quiet as they retraced their steps, but not as quiet as before. He answered questions, usually just with one or two words, and Molly thought he heard the wizard humming to himself at one point. He sat next to Molly at camp, sometimes falling asleep while leaning against Molly. He ate, though still not much. It was all still worrying, but a definite improvement over the first leg of their journey. Molly would take what improvement he could get.

They reached town, then moved on to the next town a day over. Well, _town_ wasn’t the best word for it. It was a stopping-over place, with an inn and a small general store and stables. Someone was selling horses, replacement cart parts. It was the sort of place you stayed one night and then moved on. That was probably why the innkeeper immediately knew who Molly was talking about when he mentioned having some friends waiting for him. They would’ve been there for…fuck, almost a week now. Probably a lot longer than the average guest.

They were all in the same room when Molly entered. “Your god has returned,” he announced as he shrugged off his coat. “Weep no longer. Which bed is mine? My feet are _killing_ me right now.”

No one replied. They were too busy staring at Caleb as he hovered in the doorway. Their expressions were varying degrees of wary and curious, save for Nott, who looked…well, it was difficult to say. Betrayed, certainly, worried, absolutely, maybe a little angry but mostly a _lot_ happy. She made no move to come closer; Caleb made no move to go closer to her, instead stepping inside, shutting the door, and sitting down with his back pressed against it.

“…I owe you all an explanation,” he said quietly.

“That’s an understatement,” Fjord replied. Molly kept an eye on him as he moved to the only empty bed, sitting down and taking off his boots. “So? Why’d you leave?”

“And what do you mean you killed your parents?” Jester butted in. “Beau and Nott haven’t told us _anything,_ but I know they know. And where did you go? And what does any of this have to do with the fire at the-“

“Jester, darling, I think you should let the man speak,” Molly interrupted. He glanced Caleb’s way, noting the way he seemed to grow smaller with every question. “Questions can wait until after.”

Jester’s nose wrinkled in a frown, but she at least stopped asking questions.

It took Caleb a few more seconds to gather his words. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t spoken much during their trip—he was saving it all for now. “I,” he said finally, “am going to tell you the story of how I murdered my mother and father. And what that has to do with the fire at the inn.”

And he did.

Caleb’s face was almost entirely unchanging the entire story. The pain peeked through every now and again, his voice cracking as he talked about specific moments, but overall, he seemed to have forced himself into that state. It was likely the only way he could make himself talk about what had happened, and the more he spoke, the more Molly understood why. He talked about the Soultryce Academy, about Trent Ikithon, about the killings and the torture. He talked about his parents, though only in the flattest and most clinical of terms. How he burned the house down. How he spent “a number of years” in an asylum afterwards. How a strange woman had cleared his mind of madness and taken away a false memory with it.

That was the moment when Molly realized his knuckles hurt.

How long had he been gripping his swords? Did it start with the first killing? At the very mention of the name Trent Ikithon, and the sudden recontexualization of memories that came with that revelation? Every moment Caleb flinched and hid and walked away in Zadash suddenly took on a new light, an _ugly_ light, because Caleb had been in the same city as the man who tricked him into murdering his own parents. He’d stood near him, _twice_ , unspeaking.

And that monster had spoken to Yasha. _His Yasha._ Absolutely _fucking_ not.

“So, I ran,” Caleb finished his story. “I ran, and I took this…” He pulled something out from under his shirts—a necklace, one Molly had only glimpsed in the bath house when they’d all been getting dressed and undressed. He had assumed it was a religious artifact or some wizard thing, because Caleb hadn’t actually taken it off before getting in the water. “…to hide me. To protect me. But it didn’t work, because…” His voice caught again, sticking on his words. “…Astrid and Eadwulf found me anyway.”

Those words snapped Molly out of his anger. “They burned the inn down,” Beau said.

“Ja. As a message, to me. They wanted to make sure that I left by letting...by letting me know that they knew where you were. That they’d kill all of you if they saw me again. And maybe me, but…” He laughed suddenly, bitterly. “It would be a worse punishment to burn you all and leave me alive, I think. Maybe this time I’d actually finish the job for them and they wouldn’t have to stick me in an asylum again…”

That was when Nott jumped off the bed and ran into Caleb’s arms, as if that would somehow un-say what Caleb had just said. Caleb hugged her tightly. Molly thought he heard the wizard whisper something, perhaps an apology, but it was difficult to tell.

This was…a lot. It was far more than he’d expected, and if it was a lot for _him?_ Gods, how must Caleb have been feeling? “You left to protect us,” Fjord said. His tone was much softer than it had been before, but with a steely edge to it. Molly had a feeling it was there for the same reason he’d started gripping his swords. “From Trent.”

Caleb nodded.

Beau sighed heavily. It was the first sound she’d made since they’d come back. “Honestly, man, that’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” she said.

“ _Beau!_ ” Jester squeaked.

“What? It’s true! The target’s already on our backs. You leaving or staying doesn’t make a difference.”

“I mean…she’s not _wrong,_ but…” Molly shot her a glare anyway. “I understand where you were coming from, Caleb. And thank you for thinking of us, but I would’ve preferred it if you’d _told_ us that? Maybe…lead with that bit first, save the rest for later.”

“It was the only way I could get you to let me go,” Caleb said. “If you knew what I was…”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“You know what.”

Oh, gods, were they really going to do this again? “Caleb,” Molly said. “I can’t speak for the others, but all I’ll say is…far as I’m concerned, the person who did that is gone. You’re you now. I don’t give a shit about that old Caleb. I want this Caleb here.”

“So do I,” Jester said suddenly. Molly stared at her in surprise. That was nice; he hadn’t been expecting support that fast. “We can’t keep you safe if you run _away_. And you can’t keep us safe if you’re gone.”

“What makes you think I can keep you safe _now?_ ” Caleb asked.

“Well, I mean, you _can_ shoot fire and make people go to sleep. And all kinds of other cool stuff. And you’re reading a lot, so you’re probably going to get _even stronger_.” She got off the bed with a bounce and sat down next to Caleb, her hands clasped on her lap. “And who will tell us what all the cool stuff we’re going to find out there is if you go?”

Caleb laughed incredulously, his eyes darting around the room. If he was looking for dissent, he didn’t find any. “She has a point,” Yasha said.

“She really does,” Molly agreed. He forced himself back onto his aching feet and sat down on Caleb’s other side. “Or set the alarm when we make camp?”

“I think what they’re trying to say,” Fjord interrupted, sitting cross-legged in front of Caleb, “is that Molly’s right. We want you here. And whatever happened, that’s…” Fjord sighed quietly. “I know you probably don’t believe this, but it’s not your fault. That’s Trent Ikithon’s fault. And…we’ll deal with that together. As a _team,_ Caleb.”

Caleb looked at their faces, looking more and more disoriented, especially as Beau and Yasha sat down nearby to join their little huddle. “I can’t…I can’t put you in danger…” he said.

“So, we’ll do what they want,” Molly said. “We’ll leave. Fuck the Empire, there are other places we could go. Fjord, what’s the Menagerie Coast like this time of year?”

“It’s all right. I haven’t seen the ocean in a while. Might be nice to go back.”

“See? There you go. We could head that way. Or…anywhere, really.” Caleb was starting to look overwhelmed; Molly tried to counteract that by shrugging off his coat and offering it to him. “It’s a big continent. Plenty of places. And if, one day, we want to deal with the Trent problem, we’ll come back, but for now, we have options.”

Caleb hesitated, but took the coat. “Ja,” he said, draping it over his shoulders, pulling up the collar so it hid most of his face. “I suppose.”

He really did look like he was going to break down again. _Time to defuse the situation._ “Well…I’m starving. Have we eaten yet?” What he _really_ wanted to do was lie down and not walk ever again, but Caleb needed to rest, and frankly, Molly really _was_ hungry. “You can lie down, Caleb, I’ll bring you up something. What about the rest of you?”

Fortunately, everyone got the message he was trying to send. The only person who didn’t leave was Nott, who had a death grip on Caleb’s sleeve and was _not_ leaving his side. Molly couldn’t blame her, especially after that comment about the asylum. “We’ll be back up in a bit. You should probably get some rest.”

“I’ll try. Molly, I…” Caleb hesitated, not quite looking Molly in the eye. “Thank you.”

Molly grinned brightly. “You’re welcome. Hey, Nott, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”

“I’ll sit on him,” she said, with a seriousness that said she was planning on actually, literally sitting on Caleb. “Don’t worry about getting a drink for me. I’m all set.”

“That flask really was a good investment, wasn’t it?” The comment go both of them to smile, so Molly considered that a victory. “See both of you in a bit.”

Yasha was waiting for him in the hall when he stepped out. “That was quite the story,” she said softly.

“It certainly was.” Molly rubbed his eyes as the two of them walked down the stairs. “What do you make of all of it?”

“I think…” She thought about her next words. “…with everything going on…maybe getting out of the Empire isn’t such a bad idea.”

She had a point. It wasn’t just Caleb; it was Xhorhas, it was the strange crystal still rattling around in Jester’s bag, it was the fact that Trent Ikithon knew, completely divorced from whatever he knew about Caleb, that Yasha existed, and Beau, and…well, all the rest of them. And people like them might be _very_ useful to the Empire.

“I agree. _But_ dinner first.” He patted her on the arm and went to join the others. “I really am starving.”

All of this was why he felt better moving. Couldn’t get into too much trouble if you stayed in one place for too long.

He was just glad they would be moving on with Caleb, rather than without him.

For a moment, Molly let himself wonder about the boy Caleb had been before all of this started. He pictured a gangly figure, growing out of his clothes faster than his mother could let out the hems, a messy mop of red hair, itching at the blemishes on his cheeks and chin even when he was scolded not to. He pictured a bright smile and a face not marred by the weight and worry of what was to come—a personality that, while still odd, hadn’t grown so _old_.

He thought about that, and then put it out of his mind. That Caleb was dead; he had died at the hands of Trent Ikithon, and been reborn as a vessel of the empire. Then that Caleb had died as well, burned up in the flames that killed his parents, or drowned in his madness in the asylum. A new Caleb—their Caleb—had taken his place after that.

Molly hadn’t been lying; he liked that Caleb. He liked him quite a bit. And if they had to keep running to keep their Caleb safe, then that was a price he was willing to pay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe...I finished this whole thing...in a day...this is the most writing in one day I've done since last year's NaNoWriMo, what the fuck, y'all.

It was still dark when he woke up.

The others were still there.

Nott was curled up against his chest. He was surprised to find her there still; then again, maybe he wasn’t. She’d been _livid_ when the others left, though, striking him with her tiny fists, crying, _don’t you dare leave me like that again, Caleb, don’t you dare, or I’ll…!_

The threat was never finished, because they both knew she’d never hurt him.

She’d calmed down by the time Molly came back with food. The others didn’t join them for some time, probably hoping to give Caleb some space. He was grateful for that, truly—their kindness had been overwhelming, and he wanted some time with as few people as possible. Nott didn’t push him to talk; she _did_ stay true to her word to sit on him to keep him from leaving.

Now, she was clinging to his shirt. Molly’s coat was still draped over the both of them. Frumpkin was curled up nearby, his head resting on Caleb’s. The others, as far as he could tell, were stretched out across the other two beds or the floor. From the size of that particular shadow, it was likely Yasha.

They were all there. All still there, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just admitted to killing his parents.

Part of Caleb still wanted to run; the panic had left burns in its wake, and some still smoldered. Their presence was a reminder of everything he could lose, should the worst happen. And he couldn’t get it out of his head that he didn’t deserve this— _any_ of it, not their kind looks, their gentle words, not the coat sitting heavily on his shoulders. He was too monstrous. His touch burned. He thought about the woman in the asylum who had cured him, freed him from his madness at the cost of her own sanity. Was that all he was now? Just kindling, waiting to be lit and destroy anything he was near?

They didn’t seem to think so.

_Who will tell us what all the cool stuff we’re going to find out there is if you go?_ Jester had said.

_I know you just make dancing lights, or at least you can feel like you can just making dancing lights, but those dancing lights help me to punch people in the fucking face whenever I can’t see shit,_ Beau had said.

_It wasn’t your fault. And I’m just going to keep telling you that until you believe me,_ Nott had said.

_I don’t care who that old Caleb was,_ Molly had said.

_I want you here,_ they’d all said.

His mouth still tasted like ash; he was sure the smell was ground into his skin. But when he buried his face in Molly’s coat, it still smelled like incense and wine, not destruction, even after coming in contact with him. He breathed in deeply, catching hints of other smells from around the room—metal, salt water, sweets, blood, something strange and wild he didn’t have a name for.

_We all get things we don’t deserve_ , Molly had told him.

Maybe he was right about that.

Maybe it was selfish, and maybe it made him more monstrous than before to put them in danger like he was. But he hadn’t been lying when he said he wanted them all.

_Maybe I should let myself have this,_ he thought. _Haven’t I suffered enough? Can’t I have one thing in my life that’s good?_

Correction: seven things. Even if some of them were occasionally terrible and one of them had a habit of wandering off without telling them.

Caleb pulled the coat more tightly around himself and closed his eyes.

He didn’t believe them when they said it wasn’t his fault, that he had nothing to be ashamed of, that he should forgive himself. But he did believe that they wanted him around.

He would take that, for now, and enjoy it for however long it lasted. Even if he didn’t deserve to have it at all.

His last thought, before he drifted off to sleep again, was that Molly would probably approve of that.

**Author's Note:**

> Story title taken from "story 2" by clipping., which also inspired the plot of the first chapter. I'm on tumblr at screechthemighty if you want to see me yell about Critical Role and Overwatch (seriously, I've been playing so much fucking Overwatch lately).


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